


Daddy's Home

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Series: The Fabulous Baker Boys [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, F/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Lani has been alone for a long time now, and there seems to be some kind of commotion going on. Where is Jack and what has happened to him?





	Daddy's Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittenmoon21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmoon21/gifts).



> I wrote this because I hated the thought of Lani being left down in her little room after the shit hits the fan in Resident Evil 7. Jack dies, so what becomes of his girl? I wanted a happy ending.

Lani had been left alone for a long time, so  long she had lost track, and she was lonely now, hungry for stimulation.

The last time Jack had visited he had told her to be patient. He was going to be Busy, he said. But she couldn't quite recall when that had been. She'd kept track, once upon a time, scratching lines into the bathroom wall, neat rows of four with a fifth cutting diagonally, but at some point the lines had wandered, become doodles instead, and now her bathroom wall was a sketchbook of idle dreams.

 

Lani lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Jack hadn't brought her any new books in a while, but that was okay. She couldn't focus on printed words any more. They blurred together when she tried to read, hunching together into blobs. The cracks in her ceiling were more interesting. She often lay on her bed and made maps from the crooked trails, created lands in her imagination where all paths led to the sea.

There were noises beyond her ceiling, clumping footsteps overhead that rained plaster dust down onto her, and she had a seashell, a big conch that was her prized possession, clutched to her ear, trying to blot out the unfriendly sounds. They made her anxious.

Her anxiety was at a high level now. There were often chaotic activities upstairs in the world where she was not allowed, but they rarely concerned her. They were commonplace, the screams and running feet. What she heard now and tried to ignore was different.

She had heard Jack more than once - his big booming voice, raised in anger and mockery - and the recognisable timbre made her shiver. She missed him. She missed his dick and his hands and his tongue and the dizzy pleasure he doled out. She missed sitting on his knee and cuddling, she missed being tossed onto the bed to be ravaged, she missed being full to the brim with spunk and lust.

Lani gripped her conch harder and let her other hand drift between her legs. She was wet there, slippery and slimy and ready, and she teased herself to easy arousal, clinging to the edge of release.

What was happening up there? She had smelled smoke earlier on - greasy fumes that filtered through the floorboards - and every now and then gunshots rang out.

She closed her eyes and listened to the waves trapped in the conch, rolling onto her side to seal off her other ear. She didn't want to hear anything else. Her world was breaking into pieces and she hated it.

 

There were footsteps outside her door, and Lani jerked herself awake. Her dreams had been troubled, studded by commotion and screeching and crashing, but it was quieter now.

The scuffing feet outside scrambled back and forth, things clumping onto the floor, and she heaved herself off the bed to go and investigate.

“Daddy?”

The door was metal now. It had been wooden once, but it had been replaced, though she couldn't remember why, and it was hard to hear the voice that replied. She knew there should be bleeps for the door to open - a code entered into a keypad - but she didn't hear any bleeps and that scared her.

“Daddy!” she called again, demanding this time.

She was angry. She stamped her bare foot on the boards, stirring up dust.

“Answer me, Jack!”

She put her ear to the door, pressing to the cold metal, jumping when a voice answered from inches away.

“Get away from the door,” it said, and she frowned.

It wasn't Jack’s voice. It was thinner, more nasal, and seemed familiar.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Lucas! Lani, move away from the door!”

Lucas! She let out a squeal of shock. Lucas. Jack’s boy. She'd quite forgotten about him. How had she forgotten?

They used to fuck, once upon a time. Skinny Lucas. It all came back to her. His green hoodie and sallow skin. His blue eyes. His glower. His dick - long and thin, not fat like Jack’s. But good anyway. Had she missed him? She thought she might have. She had never loved him, like she did Jack, but they had talked when they weren't fucking. Had conversations.

Jack had found them, lying in bed, just talking.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jack had yelled.

So angry. His face was red. True, Lucas was breaking the rules - he was only meant to be there when Jack was around - but they hadn't been doing any harm.

Jack had stopped Lucas coming though, and even through the muddle of her thoughts Lani understood that it wasn't the fucking that had upset Jack: It had been the talking.

He was clever, her Jack. Crafty. He had gotten Lucas to build a door - strong and hard, like Jack. And he had used that door to shut his boy out. Clever Jack. Clever, cruel Jack.

Lani scrunched her face up in distress.

“Lucas! You're not meant to be here! Jack will be cross!”

“Lani, I ain't gonna tell you again - get away from the fuckin’ door! Go into your bedroom - Now!”

She clenched her fists in frustration. Lucas couldn't tell her what to do! But….but maybe he was coming to fuck. She'd missed that. Lucas couldn't fuck like his daddy, but Lucas could fuck, oh yes.

She remembered ropes around her wrists, sticky heat in her belly.

Lani backed away from the door, scampering into her bedroom and burrowing instinctively under her blanket.

The explosion slammed her into the mattress, pressing her down, and she put her hands over her ears. Jack would be angry. She moaned.

There was a high pitched noise in her head, _eeeeeeeeeeeeee_. Like metallic insects.

“ _eeeeeeeeee_ ani! Lani! Where y _eeeeeeeee…._ ”

She burrowed deeper, but there were hands digging under her, peeling the blanket off.

“Lani, get up. C’mon now. You gotta go.”

She stared at Lucas in confusion. His face was greasy, the purple shadows round his eyes making him look haggard.

“What's going on? Where's Jack?”

The alien squeal in her head was fading, and she almost wished for it back. Lucas was going to tell her where Jack was, and even though she'd asked she didn't want to know.

“Lani, I'm sorry. He's dead. Daddy's dead. An’ you gotta get outta here.”

Lucas could be mean sometimes. He told mean jokes. This had to be one of them.

Lani shook her head.

“No he's not! Don't lie to me, jealous boy!”

Lucas sighed. There was urgency in him, impatience, but he found the time to look as sympathetic as he could.

“I ain't lyin’. The old man’s dead. There's people here - people who are gonna take you away an’ study you. You gotta get. Leave. Run.”

He was already turning to go, sloping shoulders blocking her view of his face, but she snatched at his arm angrily, clinging on.

“No! I'm not leaving till Jack comes to get me! Tell me where he is!”

Lucas yanked his arm away, pissed now.

“I fuckin’ told you, ya dumb bitch! He's dead! It's over! An’ if you don't run they'll get you. Understand? Can you get that through your fuckin’ head?”

She pouted. He was being mean. Not sexy mean either.

“You're a liar! Lying cuck! Fuck off! I hate you! Fuck off, little boy!”

His arm jerked. He looked for a moment like he was about to slap her, and she felt her body tense, ready. If he hit her, she'd hit back. She'd claw the skin off his face, bite holes in him. Lovely. Then maybe they'd fall onto the floor, him between her legs, and the could wrestle their way into fucking in a puddle of his greasy blood. She licked her lips.

Lucas’s shoulders sagged, defeated. He touched her face, thin fingers just grazing her cheek, and she flinched, still expecting the slap. When he spoke again his voice was softer, and there was real sadness in his eyes.

“I'm sorry. It's hard for you, I know. He done left you here all alone. But he never meant to. You hear me? He never thought all this would happen. He was gonna come back for you. But he couldn't. So I did. Now, listen up: He got killed. There's other people here - strangers. They're gonna want to take you away. You can't let them find you. Understand?”

“I'll go with you,” she said in a small voice.

He sighed again.

“I can't take you with me, Lani. Too dangerous. They want me more than anyone else right now. You're better off on your own. Go into the swamps, okay? You can hide there. I'm leavin’ now. Good luck.”

He turned away once more and she wanted to grab him again, keep him there to soothe her, but she felt numb, her arms too heavy to lift.

Lucas slouched out of the room, head down.

“Bye, Lani….”

His voice drifted out of the door and she was alone again.

 

Run, Lucas had said.

Hide, he'd said.

But she couldn't do that.

Her grief was a solid thing packed into her chest, making it so she could barely breathe, and it was far too heavy to carry.

She sat on the floor where Lucas had left her, a little lump of misery in a thin dress.

He'd been telling the truth. Jack was dead. Daddy was gone. Her beloved man, her keeper and protector. Her lover. Gone.

The tears piled up in her throat, making it ache, but she couldn't cry them out. If she cried it would make it real, so she swallowed them back down, keeping them inside.

There were many voices outside - far too many! The world was caving in and would squash her soon.

She struggled to her feet. What would Jack say if he was here?

_“Kitten, you know I love you, but if you don't get that pretty little ass movin’ I'm gonna slap it sore!”_

She giggled, but it gave her the energy to move.

“Where should I go?” she asked.

_“You heard the boy. Go into the swamp. A hundred places to hide there. He ain't got much sense, but he got just enough to be right this time. Get a wiggle on, hunny. Time's a wastin’.”_

 

Lani crept out of her hideout. The door had burst in the middle, steel petals flowering inwards to create a hole, and she ducked through it. She hadn't been outside this room since the day Jack brought her here, and it was scary, but not as scary as staying to be caught.

 _“You gotta be quiet. Quiet as a little mouse,”_ Jack whispered in her ear. _“I know Kittens like you catch little mice, but you gotta be the mouse now, cuz there's some damn big cats out there ready to snatch you up.”_

“I can do that,” she whispered back. “Tippy toes. Creep, creep.”

_“That's my good girl.”_

She made her way up, finding a cramped and dingy flight of stairs with a door at the top. The men's voices were distant, but she still hunched down low as she turned the handle.

_“Coast is clear, honey. Y’all gotta go down this here hall, and take the last door on your right. Then scooch along that gap - uh-huh, that's the one. Squeeze on through. That's it. Know where you are now?”_

She was in a room off the main hall. A film of dust overlay every surface, and the grimey windows shut out most of the light. She had two choices from here: The big double doors over to her left, or the door that led out to the back yard.

 _“Go up,”_ said Jack. _“Up the stairs. Too many people outside that back door. See ‘em?”_

She could see shadows moving outside, vague shapes beyond the grey glass. Bulky shapes. Man shapes.

“Up?” she asked uncertainly. “But…”

Jack didn't reply, but she trusted him - even in death, even though he was a figment of her imagination.

She went up.

She climbed the curving stairs that looped over the big doors, scampering across the hall. Up above there was the balcony Jack had carried her across the day she'd arrived, helpless over his broad shoulder, on his way to ravish her.

She cast a longing glance toward the opposite door that hid the room where they'd consummated their love, but took the other door instead.

_“Go out onto the verandah. You can climb down from there. Onto the barn and off that way. Go right over their heads.”_

It was exciting in its way - Kitten's Great Escape. She'd been cooped up for too long, but despite that she felt stronger than she ever had, energy surging through her limbs. She did as she was told, finding a gap in the lattice work and sneaking through, using the trim to shuffle across to the barn roof. The men were below, soldiers with guns and gas masks that filled her with a forlorn kind of hunger, but as much as she wanted them, she also hated them. They'd destroyed everything she loved. She wanted to piss on them.

It was a funny thought - to lift her dress and treat them to a shower - but a bad idea. Nobody had looked up yet, but if they did they'd spot her. Sneaky, sneaky - that was the way.

She scrambled onto the barn roof, bare toes biting into the wood slats for grip. It was astonishing how easy it was for her, how little effort she had to exert to climb. Sneaky though she had to be, crouching and creeping, she could have run and jumped, parkoured her way out of there with ease. Sailed over the men's heads.

She crawled along the roof and down onto the lower one, above the barn entrance. She was close to the soldiers here and had to be careful….

 

_Merchant had been put on guard. He fucking hated that. Standing round like a spare prick at an orgy looking alert, holding his gun like he meant business - boring as fuck. They were getting a party together to go down into the salt mines and hunt that weasly fucker Lucas Baker, and he wanted to be a part of that too, but Redfield had picked Marquez instead._

_Goddammit. Marquez had rubbed his face in it too, giving him a cheeky little wave and a smirk as he left with the others, going off to kick ass and take names while Merchant was stuck here, guarding the fucking barn…...Would serve Marquez right if Baker got him. He'd heard Baker was a sadistic little bitch. That'd be sweet…._

_There was a noise overhead, a barely audible creak, and Merchant spun round on his heel, raising his gun. It was getting dark, but for a second he thought he'd seen someone up on the roof - a tiny girl in a little white dress jumping from the roof, skirt flipping up to flash a portion of ass-cheek as she leaped off, and though there was a thump from the other side, Merchant lowered his gun again. He hadn't been told to look out for any bitches. Just the son. Wasn't his problem. Nobody had to know._

_He turned his back on the barn and continued to stare into the courtyard._

 

Lani waited where she'd landed, heart jittering against her ribs. The huge man standing guard had spotted her, she thought, and she waited for him to raise the alarm, but all she could hear was the hurried puff of her own breathing and the subdued crick of insects in the bayou.

Slowly she unfurled herself and scanned her surroundings. She was on a pier, a network of raised paths cutting back and forth above the water, and beyond those a wreck of a building. It almost looked like some huge monster had battered its way inside, and dying flames flickered within.

She could walk across the paths, she supposed, make her way towards the reeds and trees of the swamp in the distance, or she could swim….

Lani lowered herself into the water, feeling the warm murk cling to her legs, ballooning her dress up around her waist. It felt silky and soothing, creeping cheekily between her thighs, licking at her crotch with multiple watery tongues. She giggled happily. It was too warm out here for her liking, but it was good to be outside.

There were probably alligators in the swamp, she mused as she began to swim. She hoped so. She was in the mood for a fight.

 

Lani didn't encounter any alligators, but she encountered plenty of splintered wooden boards floating in the water. Something had torn the guts out of the boathouse and spread them all over the bayou. She wondered what could have done that. Most likely it had been one of Lucas’s explosives. The boy had often admitted to her he loved making things go _Boom!_

She pulled herself out of the water. Everything was still and quiet, the chaos seeming far away, and she stepped between the trees, soft moss underfoot. Now that the brief excitement was over, she had time to feel sad again. It seemed the water had washed Jack’s voice from her mind and all was silent inside her head.

She wanted to cry - just sit down on a tree stump and sob the wicked pain out of her body, but she was afraid that if she started she'd be unable to stop.

She had to leave, but where could she go? No doubt her family was somewhere out there, believing her dead, and the notion hurt her heart, but she couldn't bear the thought of going back to the real world after all that had happened. She'd have to earn money. Buy food and pay bills. Wear clothes. She hadn't had any duties in her dark little rooms under the house other than waiting for Jack and being fucked, and she'd been perfectly content.

The outside world was complicated.

There was a crackling sound not far behind her and she spun round with a little yelp.

She'd been so deep in her thoughts she hadn't heard the approach of another person, but there he was: A soldier wearing dark clothes and a gas mask, his breathing sounding robotic through the filter.

_“Holy shit!”_

His voice was tinny, muffled, and she nearly giggled. She should have been afraid, she supposed, but he didn't seem threatening. He had a gun but the barrel wasn't pointed at her, and his stance wasn't aggressive.

_“Miss? Are you okay? What are you doing out here? Do you live here?”_

Lani frowned. So many questions, and he hadn't given her a chance to answer them. Silly man.

 _“Are you Zoe?”_ he continued.

“No I'm not!” said Lani indignantly.

_“Oh, okay. Didn't think you were but couldn't be sure. You know where she is?”_

“Why would I know that?”

The man shrugged, gun arm relaxing even more.

_“We're looking for her. Hoped you could make my job a little easier. Miss, I don't know who you are or what you're doing out here, but you're gonna have to come with me. It isn't safe.”_

“I'm not scared,” said Lani. “And I don't want to go with you. Go away.”

The soldier took a few steps forward, cautious, evidently trying not to spook her. His head tilted as he approached, mask inclining to look her up and down, and she looked down at herself to see what he was seeing.

She was wet, her little dress soaked right through to the point of transparency, and it clung to her bare skin like a second one. The darker areas of her nipples and pubic hair showed through as clearly as if she were naked, and duckweed slimed her legs and belly.

She smiled a little. Naughty Lani, all but naked out here in the swamp.

“Why are you staring?” she asked, pretending innocence. “It’s rude!”

He made a noise that could have been a cough, and even with his face covered she thought he looked awkward and guilty.

_“I'm sorry, Miss. I just….I mean...why are you out here? What have you been doing?”_

Lani sighed.

“I was meant to be escaping. Lucas blew the door up to let me out but he's a meanie and he left me there.”

_“Lucas? Lucas Baker?”_

“Of course Lucas Baker!”

_“Where is he?”_

It was her turn to shrug.

“How would I know? I told you, he left me there. Went off.”

She flapped a hand vaguely.

“Somewhere.”

_“You were a prisoner?”_

His tone of voice changed. He sound almost sympathetic.

Lani considered her options.

“Yes. Yes I was. Oh, it was terrible! But now you're here. Are you going to save me?”

 _“Of course! Wow, you don't know how lucky you are, lady! The Bakers were_ killers! _”_

Lani shivered miserably, hugging her arms over her chest.

“I don't feel lucky,” she said. “The things they did to me in there - Jack and Lucas….They did depraved things, Mr Soldier. Sex things….”

_“Oh my god. You poor thing. Come with me, Miss. Here -”_

He was taking off the vest over the top of his uniform, struggling clumsily out of it, and she feigned fear, shrinking back.

“Why are you undressing?” she asked. “Are you going to do sex things too? Are you going to fuck me now?”

_“What? No! I was just -”_

“Why not? Don't you like me? Don't you think I'm pretty?”

The soldier hesitated, his vest dangling from his hand in confusion.

_“I thought you'd want to cover yourself….”_

“What's wrong with you? Why don't you want to look at me? Are you gay? Is that it? Does my woman’s body disgust you?”

She was getting angry now, forgetting that it was supposed to be an act. She'd only meant to distract him, but the more she spoke the more her rage grew. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

_“What the fuck…?”_

She stalked towards him, legs stiff, feeling the ire flowing through her body. It was thick and sticky, like tar, filling her up, seeping into her flesh.

The moon was fat and full overhead, and its light fell on her as she quit the shadows, and the man recoiled, staggering back a step.

_“Holy fuck! What happened to you?”_

She snarled at him, lurching forward, and he dropped his vest onto the ground, fumbling with his gun.

_“Stay back! You're infected! Get away fr-”_

She slapped his gun aside. Although she’d been barely over five feet tall all her adult life she felt huge now, a giant.

He stumbled, head snapping up to try and regain his balance, and there in front of her was a narrow slice of his neck, naked above his collar, pulse visible through the thin skin. It looked delicious.

He tried to scream, but her teeth were there before he could, tearing away his means of speech, burying his efforts beneath a flood of salty blood.

 

“Wake up, Mr Soldier!”

She was happy now, speaking to him in a sing-song voice. All the anger had dropped from her at some point, and her mood was high.

She slapped his face gently, but apart from the wobble of his head at the pressure of her palm he didn't move, and she supposed he was dead.

He'd clung onto life for an impressive amount of time, though, and that deserved some kind of recognition. Lani thought she should say a prayer, but she couldn't for the life of her remember any. She sat back on her haunches, face scrunched in concentration. Something drifted into her head, and she didn't think it was a prayer, but it would have to do.

She bowed her head and pressed her hands together.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” she said in a solemn tone. “Who is the fairest of them all? Amen.”

There. She'd paid her respects.

She got to her feet and looked down at him. She should really have guessed that he was dead. He'd been quiet and still for a long time now, and, well, he was a mess.

She'd stripped him at some point, ripped all of his clothes off but leaving the mask on because she liked the look of it. She hadn't liked the way the glass over his eyes seemed to stare at her, accusing, so she'd smashed the little panes, using a pointed stick with a rock as a hammer. Judging from the blood that had come out, she'd probably gone a little too deep, but no matter.

His body was….nice. Or at least it had been. Not her taste, all toned and tanned and muscled, but she was sure some girls out there would have enjoyed it. She'd tried hard to fuck him, but it hadn't gone very well at first. Apparently pain and blood loss made a man’s dick limp, but once she'd figured out she could use a stick as a splint she'd been far more successful. Resourceful Lani. There had been blood between her legs by the time she'd finished, but she was pretty sure it was his. It was all over her, after all.

She regarded herself. Her dress was off but she was far from naked. She was clothed in his blood. It looked black in the moonlight, smeared and swirled all over her like paint, and she'd daubed some on her face too. She hadn't worn makeup in a long time, and she'd missed it, though she'd never told Jack in case she hurt his feelings. The blood did just as well. She'd used it to ring her eyes in place of eyeliner, dabbed it onto her lips. She felt pretty.

She looked down at the dead man lying at her feet. She couldn't leave him here - if the other soldiers found him they might hunt her down. Besides, it didn't seem respectful.

She glanced at the water, still now, its inky surface reflecting the swollen moon. She hadn't encountered any alligators but she knew they were in there, and the soldier would be a tasty treat for them.

Mind made up, Lani began to roll the man to the water's edge. His arms and legs flopped clumsily everywhere but he was much lighter than she expected. Either that or she was stronger than she realised.

He teetered on the edge, belly brushed by  reeds, and she scanned the murky ripples.

“Grub up!” she called cheerily. “Snacky time for alligators! Come and get it while it's still warm!”

She gave him a push and he plopped into the swamp water, his limp body making an unimpressive sound and a disappointing splash. As he began to sink, long shadows that she hadn't noticed before detached from the opposite banks and started to drift across, making a beeline for the morsel Lani had dropped in for them. She felt pleased that they were so eager to munch on the treat she'd given them, and, like a grandmother watching her family eat a big meal she'd prepared, she watched them pluck the soldier under the surface and begin to drag him away.

“Hungry boys!” she said, clapping her hands in approval. “Eat your yummy dinner, and make sure you share!”

 

The body taken care of, Lani cleared the area of the soldiers belongings. His gun she hurled into the swamp - she didn't need it, and its noise would attract attention. His clothes and boots she wadded into a ball and stashed in a hollow tree trunk. All apart from his shirt, which she shrugged on over the drying blood caked on her body. It was long enough to be a dress on her, and made her look far more respectable.

There was likely some blood on the ground, but she had no way of getting rid of that so decided not to worry. She was tired now, the excitement of the past hours creeping up on her, and the grief was still there, lurking at the back of her mind despite the fun diversion the soldier had supplied. Maybe if she slept, she would feel better.

She pushed further on into the thicker part of the bayou, seeking out the dense trees and undergrowth, and eventually found a suitable place beneath a fallen tree with spanish moss draped in a canopy over it.

She crawled inside, reminded of the blanket forts she'd made as a child, and curled up on the ground. She was asleep within minutes, the chirruping of insects her lullaby.

 

_She dreamed she was back at the house, but it was The Past. She was a teenager having a sleepover with Zoe and they were talking about school and boys - simple teenage girl things. The floorboards kept creaking outside Zoe’s door and Zoe said it was Lucas, trying to spy on them. She stuffed wads of cotton into the keyhole to stop him peeking and they giggled, imagining his disappointment._

_It made Lani feel strange, though, knowing Lucas wanted to look at her. Gave her a private little tingle that felt naughty and wrong, even though she thought Lucas was creepy. It was….flattering, she supposed, and she couldn't help but imagine Lucas sneaking in once Zoe was asleep, creeping up to the side of her bed to peer at her._

_Lani gave a shudder. She wouldn't really like that. Not really..._

_There was a knock of Zoe’s door, quiet and respectful._

_“Who's there?” yelled Zoe. “Lucas, I swear if that's you I'm tellin’ Daddy!”_

_There was a deep chuckle from beyond the door._

_“It ain't Lucas, honey. He been botherin’ the pair o’ you?”_

_“A little. What do you want, Daddy?”_

_“Just wanted to let you ladies know I'm goin’ to bed now, so keep the noise down if you can.”_

_“Okay Daddy. Goodnight.”_

_“Night, Zoe. Night Lani.”_

_Lani tried to say goodnight, but her voice quavered a little and came out as a squeak, making Zoe laugh._

_“What happened to your voice?” she spluttered. “Sounded like a chipmunk!”_

_Lani shrugged and brushed it off. If it weren't for the dream she was in right now, she would have forgotten this moment - forgotten how the strange way Lucas’s spying had made her feel had been transferred over to Zoe’s father during the course of the brief exchange. How it had been this particular point in time she'd realised she was attracted to Jack Baker. His voice was so deep and kind, his manner so relaxed yet with just enough sternness, and when she went to sleep that night it wouldn't be Lucas she thought of as she drifted off - it would be Jack._

 

Lani didn't feel sad when she woke up - she felt energised and hopeful, and the innocent nature of her awakening lived all over again felt as familiar and comforting as it did strange. Jack had been a different person then, but so had she, and if it hadn't been for the disaster that had overtaken the Baker family she wouldn't be in this situation now. She couldn't regret a single moment of it. Jack may have been dead, but she had still experienced so much, and bizarre though their relationship had been, she felt lucky to have loved and been loved with such intensity. Nothing could take that away.

She crawled out of her makeshift tent, sunlight touching her face for the first time in ages, and she blinked the brightness away until her eyesight was accustomed.

She still didn't know where she would go, but it wouldn't be back to the real world. She had no place there any more.

 

She wandered aimlessly as the day went on. She should have been hungry, she thought, but she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt hunger. If she was “infected”, as the soldier had said, it was possible she had no need of food now, but part of her still wanted to eat for the sheer enjoyment of it. She'd always loved to eat, and it was a familiar process that would be comforting, so she decided to go search for some food. It would give her something to do if nothing else.

 

She'd caught a catfish - an ugly looking think to be sure. She had learned about noodling -  the act of catching fish with your hands - from Jack many years ago, and she never thought she'd ever use the technique, but she’d found a stream and remembered his description. She'd stuck her fist into the water and it hadn't been long before a fish had happened by and mistaken her hand for something tasty. The feel of the fishy mouth around her hand, swallowing it up to the wrist, might have been repulsive to the old Lani, but this Lani was excited beyond belief: She had learned something and used it, and the experiment had been successful, so now she had food and a means of acquiring it.

She congratulated herself as she devoured the fish, eating it raw, bones and guts and eyes and all, licking the scales from her lips and its cold blood from her fingers. She could be self-sufficient out here, she realised, make herself a home if she could find shelter. The realisation was uplifting.

She wiped her hands on the dead man’s shirt and continued to explore.

 

She was far from the house now - far from the men who had torn her little world apart, killed her Jack. She felt safe but lonely, and wished Lucas was there just so she didn't feel quite so abandoned.

She still searched for a place she could set up house. She'd found the wreck of a ship that had seemed promising, a huge rusting hulk of a torn apart tanker that would have made a fine dwelling with plenty of places to hide, but the sheer wrongness of it being in the swamp had put her off. It didn't feel like the ship’s presence was a coincidence, and even though she hadn't gotten close enough to explore she could see black mold coating it, clogging up the entrances, hanging like thousand-year-old stalactites from the upper levels. The soldiers were most probably looking for this ship, she reasoned, and she didn't want them to find her too.

The ground around the ship was soft and muddy and she liked the way it squished between her toes, but regardless of that she turned away and went back into the trees. She would keep looking.

 

There was a shack: A small wooden building with a tar paper roof and a wonky outhouse, and it stood in the middle of nowhere, blending into the trees. There was a woodpile stacked nearby, an axe with the blade buried in a tree stump alongside it, and the surrounding trees were decorated in a curious way, with beer cans and whiskey bottle stuck on the ends of the branches. It was roughly made yet looked sturdy, and Lani wondered what kind of person could live there.

Her senses were sharp, and despite the signs of occupation she didn't feel like anyone was home, though she approached with caution nevertheless. There was an old camping chair set outside the door, and she imagined the person who lived there sitting and drinking in the evenings, surveying their remote surroundings, watching for intruders. The door was secured by a hank of rope but there was no lock, so it was the work of mere seconds to gain entry. She swung the door open and stepped inside.

The interior was as basic as the exterior, but it was clean enough. There was a camping bed, the kind made of canvas stretched over a metal frame, a mosquito net tied in a loose knot suspended above it. Set against the opposite wall was a small table with an oil lamp on it, a battered wooden chair bellied up to it, and a woodstove in the corner, it's surface blackened with soot. Apart from these necessities, she spotted something she recognised as an old ham radio and an old, chipped dresser that contained tin mugs and old billy cans.

Whoever lived here lived alone, it seemed, and judging by the decor they were male: The walls were covered with pages ripped from girlie mags, women in various stages of nudity smiling or pouting down at her. He seemed to favour nautical themes, as many of the women wore sailor suits, but there were women holding guns, too, posing in front of flags, bent over sandbags, cowboy hats cocked on their heads and tiny denim shorts pulled up into the cracks of their asses.

Apart from the women, the only other decoration was a wooden cross nailed the wall above the bed, a medal with a faded ribbon hanging beside it.

Lani felt a little like a fairytale heroine, Snow White or Goldilocks maybe, wondering if the resident would come back and catch her. Wondering if they would try and harm her. Maybe he would let her stay, though, like the dwarves had Snow White, in exchange for...certain services.

Lani sat on the chair to wait.

 

Days passed, and there was no sign of the shack’s owner.

Lani tidied the single room, sweeping the floor every day with a broom she'd found fashioned from twigs, throwing away the single spunk-encrusted sock she found beneath the bed. She picked wildflowers for the table, using a tin mug for a vase.

She took down the pictures. They didn't offend her, but she found the huge, balloonish breasts and acres of glossy skin a little intimidating.

Further exploration of the dresser revealed coffee and jerky and other non-perishables to sustain her, and a bottle of cheap bourbon she decided to save for emergencies.

She missed Jack, still, but she was happy as she could be in her little hut.

 

A week into her stay she grew bored of dried food and beans and ventured to the nearby river, meaning to catch another fish. It was a hot day, sticky and full of insects, but the mosquitoes avoided her, though she walked through clouds of them, evidently repulsed by what ran through her veins. The few that did chance a taste of her blood fell off her skin dead within seconds.

There were footprints in the mud of the riverbank: Large ones from bare feet, and she studied them with fearless curiosity. They were unevenly spaced, the ones on the left deeper than the right, as though whoever had made them staggered. The ones on the left also appeared to possess an extra toe.

She followed them. The path they made was clear, travelling laboriously in a ragged trail along the river, interspersed by the round dents of knee prints as though the person had fallen.

There was some fluid, too, a clear jellyish slime like thick saliva threaded through with something black, splattering the mud here and there.

She found the maker of the marks after roughly a mile, and it was barely human. It presented at first as a mound of raw flesh, mottled in appearance, mere holes strung together by sinew. It breathed, though, rattling phlegmy sounds that conveyed agony.

Ugly as it appeared, Lani drew closer. She felt pity for the wretched thing, and her compassion knelt her beside it to lay a gentle hand on the trembling mass.

The hump flexed beneath her palm, shuddering, and she didn't flinch as it twisted. An eye appeared, a yellowish ball that swung crazily to look at her, and a pitiful sound like a moan was wrung from it.

“It's okay,” she said. “I won't hurt you. My name is Lani. Who are you?”

The eye widened, and she saw a grey tinge buried in the amber glow that struck a chord deep within her.

_“...itte….”_

Her perspective shifted as parts of it moved, like an optical illusion clicking into view, and her breath caught in her throat as gash that was now clearly a mouth moved, trying to speak her pet name. The voice was deep and thick with mucus but she would have recognised it anywhere.

_“Gitteh….”_

“Yes! Yes, Jack, it's me!” she sobbed, flinging herself against the slimy flesh. “I thought you were dead!”

Jack gargled, struggling to pull himself upright. There were arms of sorts attached to the malformed torso, and they stretched, trying to reach for her.

“What happened to you, Jack? How did you get like this?”

Jack panted, the effort of sitting up apparently draining him.

He was only mildly recognisable as the man she loved, but as Lani scrutinised him joyfully she was able to find bits that had endured: The bald dome of the top of his head; the eyes of course, though one was nearly obscured by a flap of skin dangling over it; the suggestion of his beard, looking like the spanish moss that hung from the trees, caked with the drool that seemed to cover him.

He sighed and sank back down, his eyes closing, and something dark oozed from one of them, trickling down the furrowed cheek. He was weary and weak and possibly in pain, but he was alive.

“Don't worry, Jack,” said Lani. “I'm here now. I'm going to look after you.”

It was hard, but she managed to get him to his feet. He had to lean heavily on her, one of her arms around his waist, and his feet dragged as she supported him. She carried him most of the way, his floppy flesh smearing her, but it made her skin cool and tingly and she didn't mind the mess one bit.

She talked as they went, telling him everything that happened in an excited jumble, not omitting anything, and though he growled when she told him about the soldier she scolded him.

“I did what I had to do!” she said. “There's no point in being jealous. Don't be cross, or I'll leave you here!”

She wouldn't have dreamed of doing that, but her threat scared him into obedience, and she managed to get him back to the shack with little incident. He dug in his heels when it came into view, though, shrinking back pathetically.

_“No! Joe. No.”_

He spluttered and choked on the words, and rough as they were she somehow understood them.

“Joe? Is that who lives here? You know him? Well, he's gone now, I'm certain. It's my home now, and if he turns up wanting to move back in, I'll tear his balls off! He won't hurt you, Jack - I won't let him. I promise.”

Moderately reassured, Jack allowed her to lead him into the little house.

She got him onto the the camp bed, hos weight making the structure creak and groan, and he collapsed onto it gratefully.

“Get some sleep, Jack. You need to get your strength back. I'll find us some food.”

The thing on the bed twitched, face pulling up at one side, and Lani smiled back.

 

She killed an alligator, pouncing on it and wrestling it in shallow water though it did its best to escape. Its skin was tough but she drove a pointed stick through its brain one handed, holding it still till its spasms stopped, then dragged the carcass back to the shack by its tale.

There was a selection of knives in the dresser, and Lani used the biggest and sharpest to hack chunks of meat from the corpse, carrying the pieces inside. Jack lay limp on the bed, but she pressed her bloody fingers to the slit of his mouth, watching his eyelids flutter at the smell.

“Wake up, Jack. Time to eat.”

He grunted, sucking on her fingertips, licking off the gator blood. Lani giggled at the warm, wet tickle.

“That's it! Good boy. Now eat some meat. It's good for you. Will make you big and strong again….”

 

In the weeks that followed, Jack got better with Lani’s care. His mind had deteriorated through whatever process had made him this way, and sometimes he forgot where he was, but he never forgot who she was.

He ate the meat she fed him by hand until he was strong enough to feed himself, and after that Lani he insisted he sit at the table for his meals.

“It's more civilised,” she told him.

Every night, they slept together, Lani lying on Jack in the narrow bed, and he made a very comfy mattress, albeit a rather squelchy one.

There was no sex, to begin with: Lani had looked all over and could find no sign of anything resembling a penis. She bathed him every day, washing the slime off him with water from the river, on the bed at first, tenderly wiping under each flap of skin, until he was able to stand outside.

Then Lani fashioned a crude shower from a container with holes poked in it that she hung from a tree branch, and she made him stand beneath it, scrubbing him with a long handled broom.

“Cleanliness is next to dogliness,” she told him, though that didn't sound quite right, but he was very much like a dog now: Loyal and clumsy and stupid and a bit smelly.

She trained him, teaching him to form clearer words through his deformed mouth, and to her joy the vocal exercises she put him through grew a stump of a tongue after a while. She put that to good use straight away, sitting on his head outside their little home, riding the warm laps of his new tongue until she was quite dizzy. The experienced seemed to cause some kind of cataclysm, for after that he improved steadily, and before long he was growing not one but _three_ penises: one in the normal location; one where his nose should have been, and one in the place of a thumb. Lani was as patient as she could be, but as soon as the one on his hand outgrew the others she jumped on him, fucking his thumb-dick as the early morning sun slanted through the doorway. He didn't ejaculate, but he appeared to enjoy it nevertheless.

 

Months passed, and Jack became less ragged and more humanoid in appearance, the lengthy healing process remarkable yet slow. Lani didn't mind a bit, though: She had been dependent on him for so long it was nice to look after him now: Teach him, feed him, fuck him. His mental state was slow at best, and he relied upon her and her instruction for the most simple tasks, but Lani was happy anyway.

Daddy was alive, and at home where he belonged, and she didn't plan on letting him go again.

If she was a fairytale princess now, she deserved her Happily Ever After. And if she didn't get it, somebody would die.


End file.
